


Reunion

by last-time-travel (Panadopolis)



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Family Feels, Fanart, Gen, I have no idea how the Layton timeline works and if real-life events still happen, Missing Scene, My First Work in This Fandom, Pre-Canon, The Blitz, Unwound Future, World War II, headcanons, i guess??, so this might be AU, technically no spoilers but works best if you've already beaten the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panadopolis/pseuds/last-time-travel
Summary: Just a little oneshot with young Clive and his mother.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Reunion

You remember it well. The darkest period in your life, one shock coming after the other. The day the nation declared war. The day you husband was called away to the service. The day the bombs started.

Looking back, you are amazed that you survived those dark, war-torn days without losing yourself in fear, or grief. The dawn of each day seemed so lifeless and bleak, as the nation’s darkest hour stretched into days, and months, and years.

And yet, every morning came with hope. The relief of surviving another day, of seeing your child alive and well. Of knowing your family would one day be reunited.

Dear little Clive refused to leave your side, bless his little heart. Even after the evacuation order for London’s children had been given, he stayed with you in the heart of London. He couldn’t bear to be separated from Mama, not when he already lost Papa to war work.

In your mind’s eyes you can see flashes of memories. The two of you huddling in one of the underground stations made into a makeshift bomb shelter, or Clive playing patience in the sitting room corner on those long, dark evenings, while you fretted in your chair and dreaded the roar of airplanes.

Clive inherited your love of cards. You got him a pack of cards for his seventh birthday, the first without Papa. He was always such a clever child; he quickly outgrew your childhood favourites of Go Fish and Old Maid, and whiled away many hours playing hands of pinochle and rummy with you. He even took up studying the rules of bridge, your favourite game. You promised to take him with you to your bridge club, once the nightmare of the war was finally over.

You saw traces of his father, too. His assertion of growing up and being an aircraft engineer just like Papa. His cunning and resourcefulness, making tiny little planes out of paper scraps and any other spare materials lying around the flat.

You treasured every moment you could share with your child. You knew the two of you were lucky, even before the bombs fell on the neighbouring flats while yours was left miraculously untouched.

That’s why you held those precious memories tight to your chest, knowing your run of luck could betray you as quickly as the turn of a card. You clutched at the memories of your loved ones - your child’s smile, your husband’s hearty laugh - for fear that they would slip away in the darkness.

The thought of your child is what got you through each day. Clive was always such a clever boy, and he also had that little edge of luck; it’s why he took so easily to card games. You knew he would grow up to do great things.

You hoped his luck would be enough for the two of you to survive until then.

*

You remember that night well.

It was during the waning days of the war, when the nightmare of the Blitz was finally coming to an end but a dark cloud still hung over the city like suffocating fog. A cornered enemy, yet one as deadly as ever, and driven by desperation.

You and Clive sat at the window, watching the skies. Watchful for the first sign of a plane, and the rain of bombs and the horror of flames that it betold. Clive peered at the skies like a hawk; the first few weeks it had been from enthusiasm of watching the planes, but now his eyes were as weary and haunted as yours.

Clive saw him first; his eyes were younger, and so sharp. He let out a small cry.

A man was coming up the lane.

Your heart beats faster. He’s dressed in a dark gray suit, a hat perched on his head, a neatly-wrapped package under one arm.

It feels like decades since you last saw him. And yet, at the same moment it is as if you only parted yesterday.

For a moment you forget about the war. You almost fool yourself into thinking you’ve returned to those long-lost carefree days when your husband would come home from work at six o-clock sharp, occasionally bringing back a new book as a present for his son.

You’re already rushing down the stairwell of the flat, Clive in tow. He clutches at your arm, as if afraid of losing you.

You burst out into the street. In that moment you lose yourself, finally unburdening the grief and longing you have carried deep in your heart. You cry out and throw yourself into an embrace in the middle of the lane, as streetlamps flicker on and shopkeepers close up for the day.

You pry yourself away just for a moment, scooping up Clive and helping him into the waiting arms of his father.

The three of you share a hug, your British stoicism momentarily forgotten, none of you bothering to hold back your tears.

You give silent blessings to whichever higher power cares to listen. You give thanks for your fortune, for the chance to see each other once again.

The war is not yet over. But the darkness has lifted. The dawn has come.

Soon the time for rebuilding and healing will begin.

The hard times will continue. You accept it as a harsh truth; your naiveté has long passed, especially as one who served in the dispensary during the first war and lived through its gruelling aftermath. There will be shortages, and rationing, and the harsh reality of a nation recuperating from an unwanted, far more deadly war.

But you will persevere. Your family will carry you through.

Your trust that luck will hold you through the time of rebuilding, and that your family can finally settle down into peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Also made some accompanying fanart:


End file.
